Page 9 of My Bounty Hunter is a Demon (Demons for Hire)

Three days later, I was still adjusting to the peace. Standing on the weathered boards of Dorian's back porch, I breathed in the fresh morning air, letting the scent of pine and earth fill my lungs. Wisps of Dorian's magic lingered here too, a subtle undercurrent that once felt foreign but now almost soothed me. Completely different from the battles, missions and running that had defined my existence for so long. As a light breeze tangled in my hair, I finally understood, deep in my bones, what it felt like to belong.

My adopted family had always offered unconditional love and support, but a part of me never quite fit. An edge piece in their picture-perfect puzzle, attached but not wholly integrated. But here, with Dorian in Everton Ridge, those jagged edges softened. The constant vigilance ebbed away, revealing something raw and unguarded underneath. For the first time, I felt the tension melt from my shoulders, giving way to an unfamiliar lightness in my chest.

The creak of the screen door pulled me from my musings. I sensed his presence before I turned, his magic reaching for mine like an instinctive caress. Dorian stepped onto the porch, two steaming mugs in hand. His bare feet were quiet against the boards, sweatpants slung low on his hips. Dark hair disheveled from sleep, the usually sharp planes of his face softened. My heart stumbled at the sight of him, so unguarded and real in the hazy morning light.

"You're up early," Dorian remarked, voice still rough with sleep as he handed me a mug. His fingers brushed mine, the contact lingering a second too long, sending sparks racing across my skin.

I smirked, taking a sip of the rich coffee. "I could say the same about you."

We settled onto the porch swing, the old chains groaning as it swayed beneath our combined weight. Almost unconsciously, I leaned into him, my head finding the crook of his shoulder like it had always belonged there. Dorian's arm wrapped around me. I released a breath as his thumb rubbed slow, soothing circles against my hip.

For a few moments, we simply sat, watching the river rush by as it carved its path through the dense pines. I realized then how strange it was to be still, to just exist without the looming threat of the next mission, the next fight. Part of me still coiled tight, muscles tense, waiting for the peace to shatter. But it held, and I sank deeper into Dorian with each gentle sway of the swing.

Dorian hummed thoughtfully behind me, a low rumble against my back. "So what now?"

"We rebuild. The High Coven had contained the remaining cult threats. My family and yours will watch over things for a while."

He shifted, arm tightening around my waist until I tilted my head to meet his gaze. Those dark eyes, usually crackling with mischief or battle-forged intensity, now held a softer question.

"I meant for us," he clarified quietly, the words hanging between us, weighted with promise and uncertainty.

My heart tripped in my chest, picking up an erratic rhythm. "Us," I repeated slowly, testing the shape of it in my mouth.

"Yeah." Dorian's fingers absently traced my hip bone through the thin fabric of my shirt, his magic curling around me, warm and imploring. "You sticking around, demon girl?"

I exhaled shakily, my own fingers finding his against my waist. I twined them together, marveling at the steadiness, the belonging in such a simple touch.

"I think I am," I admitted with a wide smile. "I never thought I'd want something like this."

Because this heady contentment, this sense of rightness down to my very marrow, was utterly foreign. A distant dream I'd never dared to voice, even to myself, as I fought and clawed my way through life. But now, here with Dorian, as the morning mist kissed our skin, it took startling shape.

Dorian's gaze blazed into me. Then he said, "I love you, Aspen."

The world tilted, narrowing down to the space between us. Those four words ricocheted through me, piercing and perfect. I forgot how to breathe, throat working against the rush of emotion. Dorian's face held no uncertainty, no caveat. Just a steadfast truth, etched into the set of his jaw and the dark pools of his eyes. Loving me wasn't a hardship or a question. It just was. However, I didn’t need to hear the words because I could feel his love through our bond.

"You don't have to say it back," he offered gently when I remained frozen, fingertips ghosting over my cheek and igniting sparks beneath my skin. And I realized I didn't want to hold the words inside, bury them beneath layers of doubt and fear. For once, I wanted something for myself, purely and completely.

"I love you, too."

Dorian's face transformed, the quiet intensity giving way to an almost boyish wonder. As if he couldn't quite believe it, either. "Good," he murmured, a slow grin unfurling across his face. And then he was kissing me.

It wasn't the frantic, adrenaline-fueled kisses from battle, all clashing teeth and fevered hands. This was a slow staking claim, his lips moving over mine with purposeful, reverent strokes. I melted into him, into the heat of his body and the gentle consumption of his kiss. Dorian's hands framed my face like I was something precious, thumbs sweeping over my cheekbones as his tongue delved past my parted lips. Searching, learning, savoring.

I kissed him back just as thoroughly, just as carefully. Pouring everything I'd been too scared to say into every brush of lips and slide of tongues. Allowing the enormity of this - of us - to flow between the infinitesimal spaces where we connected.

This was what love looked like, I realized. Not a lightning strike or a tidal wave, but a slow, inexorable claiming. Porch swings and coffee mugs. Tangled limbs and unspoken promises. Safety and belonging, laid bare and unhurried.

When we finally broke apart, breath mingling between kiss-swollen lips, Dorian's eyes glinted with familiar mischief. "So," he drawled, fingers still tracing maddening patterns against my lower back. "Now that we've gotten the life-threatening mayhem out of the way, any big plans for the day?"

A startled laugh bubbled up in my throat, giddiness and incredulity colliding. "Not running for our lives sounds like a solid start."

"And after that?" Dorian prompted, lips quirking.

I smirked, twining my fingers through his hair and tugging lightly. "Surprise me."

The words settled into me, embedding themselves beneath my ribs. Because for the first time, the unknown didn't fill me with dread - it sparked anticipation. Potential and possibilities stretching out before us, waiting to be explored together.

I wasn't naive enough to think our demons were banished for good. The darkness inside would rear its head again, the scars of our pasts raked open anew. But when the shadows encroached, and the nightmares took hold, I knew, soul-deep and certain, that I would no longer face them alone.

I'd spent my whole life fighting with every breath and choice being a means of survival. Scraping and snarling my way forward, armored by necessity and little else. The very notion of sharing those burdens, of allowing someone to shoulder them with me, had been laughable.

But here, fingers entwined with Dorian's as a new day dawned golden and full of promise, those notions crumbled. I didn't just have someone willing to stand beside me through the tempests - I had someone who'd dive headlong into the fray at my side, magic crackling and eyes alight. Who'd weather my edges and my sins, kissing the scars, and put back my shattered pieces.

No, this wild, wondrous love we'd forged through strife and revelation wasn't about perfect peace. It was about partnership in the chaos. An unshakable faith to light our way and a bond to carry us through.

And for the first time in my blood-soaked, solitary existence, I wouldn't walk through the fire alone. Never again.